


A Cool Day In Spring

by LateToTheParty



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateToTheParty/pseuds/LateToTheParty
Summary: Imoen has a sister with a somewhat unorthodox approach to the traditional quests in Athkatla.Fhuhor Blueinkfrost.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

A Cool Day in Spring

It wasn't long after Aerie's courtship with Haer'Dalis ended, not even two whole days, that a surprising turn of events occurred. Aerie, who had had a penchant for gnomes for as long as Imoen had known her, exchanged tales with Jan and began flirting over turnips in the streets of Trademeet. 

Imoen's sister, Alyssa, had muttered something about 'wingless, still flighty', and continued doing what she did best: forgeries, pyramid schemes, and the slicing, dicing and striking of gems. Alyssa was worse than a magpie.

When the Cowlies took her, Imoen banked on Alyssa coming after her and ruining her heroic self-sacrifice in some brazen, reckless rescue. She didn't have to wait long. Her sister wasn't one for drawn out stories or epic sagas so merely shrugged. It had taken a lot of coaxing for her to finally admit she'd caught the very next ship on the evening tide. Alyssa had apparently struck a bargain with the Shadow Thieves to the tune of 20,000 gold, then disembarked on the island docks alone but for a dagger and a set of lockpicks. Of course, back in the Gate Alyssa had fallen in with the Shadow Thieves almost instantly, then apprenticed under Black Lily and Narlen Darkwalk. Since that time, Alyssa adopted the name 'Night Waterlily', something she wryly amended to 'Knight Waterlily' whenever she was dealing with paladins and cracked crude japes over when dealing with surly dwarves. 'Night water' was gross, Imoen thought at the time but it never seemed to bother Alyssa who positively delighted in wordplay. It seemed to be her only vice, aside from magpie-ing. Probably what came from growing up in a library while Gorion and Winthrop made Pa jokes all the time.

Imoen sighed to herself. Alyssa had apparently flinched a few gems from various nobles in the marketplace, replacing them with paste, altered them and offered them to the guild thief that approached her. All before high tide. Nobles had guards and were used to thieves, so Imoen wasn't entirely sure how Alyssa had done it but she suspected that she probably decked herself out as a merchant offering pamphlets. It didn't actually matter. 

It had taken the ship a while to get there but Alyssa had caught their captor unprepared. Although there was a bit of trouble in the form of that silver tongued Havaerian, who made a Yuan-ti seem trustworthy, Alyssa had released all the inmates of the asylum, grabbed her, Dradeel the elf, found a break in the wards and slipped out of Spellhold. Somehow Alyssa convinced Dradeel to teleport them away; Imoen still wasn't entirely sure how but it was something about not going back to the 'bad doggies', whatever that meant.

After that, they found themselves in a place called 'Umbra Hills', or at least, that's what Alyssa heard, and it stuck. Dradeel ran off into the forest, and then against all reason, they returned to Athkatla and the Shadow Thieves. The journey was long, arduous and frankly, boring, but it reminded Imoen of the 'old days'.

Once they were back, they needed a drink and to do something fun, so they found themselves watching a play at a grotty inn, (not the worst they'd seen), visiting the circus, and then Athkatla got too hot, and so it was off to Trademeet, as a favour to the Shadow Thieves' guild master. Of course, Alyssa had her own plans, especially now Djinn were involved. Alyssa always loved the tales of outsmarting Djinn for treasure. And that's when the trouble began. Somewhere along the way, they rescued (or were rescued by) Jan the gnome, Haer'Dalis the tiefling and Aerie the Wingless. That was when the true drama started...

As soon as Imoen learnt that Aerie had a thing for gnomes she knew trouble was brewing. She'd seen the wide eyed routine enough times before; she'd even done it herself on occasion. But Aerie had it down to an art. Aerie only broke her innocent act with irritation. Even her fervour had a charming quality to it. Not that Imoen had any issue with it but what did anyone expect from someone coming out of a circus? She was a performer, just as Haer'Dalis was a bard.

So the exchanges began, and then the dance started, the inquiries about what it was like where Imoen and Alyssa grew up, talk of sunsets, of childhood, all within Haer'Dalis and Jan's earshot. This served only to egg the tiefling on. Of course Aerie knew exactly what she was doing as she coiled her hair around her finger. How could she not? She might be an innocent but she wasn't that innocent. Imoen even cracked a smile.

The streets of Trademeet were everything Imoen expected. It wasn't the Gate, but it certainly wasn't Beregost, and it made Nashkel look like a hovel, which really it was. Even Beregost was relatively poor. But the stalls were empty, the shops closed, and the Djinn were blocking all trade, not that Alyssa cared one whit about the merchants and their marked up wares. They bought low and sold high, and her sister took a quiet, almost gleeful satisfaction that someone had finally turned the tables. If Imoen knew Alyssa at all, then she knew she was wishing - pun intended - that she'd done this to the Iron Throne all those months ago. Alyssa could be spiteful on occasion but this time, Imoen kind of agreed with her. Probably would have made it worse though, not that they had the means to pull off such a thing, so far as she knew.

Interrupting them was a mournful melody, as a certain tiefling strummed the most melancholy piece he knew. Imoen rolled her eyes but neither Alyssa, Aerie or Jan paid it any attention. Imoen couldn't even feel sorry for him. In a single morning and afternoon, Haer'Dalis had managed to alienate himself from everyone with his constant prattle about entropy. That's when Aerie dropped him with less care than a 'turnip down a wishing well'. Now the flirting had moved to Jan-pa and the Giant Turnip, a turnip larger than a town, when Jan-pa was just a knee-high to a gnome, despite being a gnome himself, and the tale continued to gain height.

At this point, Alyssa interjected about a gnome she and Imoen had met that turned travellers into lawn ornaments on account of his pet basilisk. This saw a tale about a Jan and a giant turnipstalk that reached a cloud giant, and Alyssa cut Aerie off by describing a mad gnome by a shipwreck, then Tiax in the Gate, and finally Quayle on Wyrm's Crossing, right outside the Gate.

This saw Aerie get huffy, puffy eyed, indignant and the tears began. Then she stormed off; Haer'Dalis sat by the town well, and Jan started a search for turnips for soup. 

Alyssa merely shrugged. Was it her fault most of the gnomes they met were mad, even the kindly old Bently and Gella Mirrorshade. Setting up an inn in a temple of Bhaal...

Imoen rolled her eyes then chortled. If Aerie couldn't handle a few words then there was no way she was handling stinky hobgobs, pugtails and sneaky djinn. Were all elves given to such melodrama? Kivan was kinda understandable but Xan was completely over the top. She wondered how Aerie would find him. Maybe she should introduce them.

A while later, they found the wingless elf moping under a tree, her eyes red and puffy. She jumped to her feet, almost knocking her chin on her knees and glared at both Imoen and Alyssa. About to launch into a righteous tirade, Imoen cut her short with a smile. Alyssa merely shrugged and resumed scouting out marks, both buildings and occupants. It was a pleasant way to spend a pleasant afternoon. Of course, this was nothing if not a challenge to Jan and something about Great Uncle Jan Jakson and a turnip golem, as the missing ingredient of the ill fated flesh golem was the fleshiest of turnips from Granma Jan and Great Aunt Ja-Ja's window box garden and -

There was screaming. Actual honest to Tymora screaming. It came in the form of one Edwin Odiouson, the great mauve wizard, if Imoen read those robes correctly. There was a stream of profanities, something about 'blithering idiots' and righteous outrage that put a paladin to shame. As it turned out, Edwin was something of a freelance agent who owed a favour to the guild and replaced the last contact after a terrible accident involving a lightning strike. Imoen had no idea where Alyssa had found him, well, a stinking backroom with a musty pallet that didn't bear thinking about, but his tirade cut short when Alyssa pinched his nose.

Whatever she said was lost to the annuals of history but Imoen was willing to bet it was something to do with that one night in Nashkel with details she wasn't privy to and Alyssa's snoopin'. Edwin proceeded to sulk, then Alyssa stepped on Jan's foot and made airy threats about losing large bulbous protrusions, which naturally set Aerie into a gale of tears. Alyssa who had something of a hangover, or possibly a simple headache, merely inquired why Aerie was so set on travelling with them. Camaraderie was common, she went on, and somehow, all ears perked up, even Haer'Dalis' (who had somehow reappeared). It was said so matter-of-factly that Aerie simply stopped.

Then Alyssa used her most dangerous feature: her winsome smile. It eclipsed the darkness lurking in her eyes, a look Imoen knew all too well. Things would get uuuuugly. Not right away, because Alyssa would bide her time, but right when no one was expecting, she'd either tire of it and not care, or someone would get a pie in the face. If they were unlucky, it would be straight out of the oven and a sticky berry pie. Like that moron who wouldn't stop flirting with them back in the 'keep. Thought that they'd be up for a 'pair of queens' or something, from whichever card game he was playing. Moire had already turned him down as had Osprey, so apparently they were last on the list? Of course, she'd been too young to understand or so she pretended but Alyssa had worn that same smile and never so much as muttered 'creep'. Somehow, it had been written off as an accident, a fall from a ledge high over the gardens. Uncanny accuracy or just ill luck?

Alyssa had never really cared for company. Somehow, everyone they met left of their own accord, as if it was their decision, their idea. Alyssa's hands were always clean, her counsel always sensible, level-headed and most of all, reasonable.

Little Alora chosen to spread cheer with that sweet, dim-witted bufflehead Ajantis, who one day declared he must avenge Bjorn, despite Bjorn being in Beregost, days from the Friendly Arm; Yeslick took off for Durlag's Tower one afternoon because of dwarfish honour despite having no apparent connection to Durlag's clan, and Shar-Teel wound up going after Tazok because... Imoen had no idea why. Sometimes it seemed that Alyssa only tolerated others for her sake, and at best, they lasted less than a tenday. But it wasn't as if anyone they met was even remotely sane, not even Black Lily. It seemed that the entire world was positively mad and needed, as ole Puffguts once put it, 'a righteous kick in the arrrrrse.' Still, Alyssa didn't so much kick as set a pebble to start a landslide and how righteous it was was entirely debatable. 

As for Aerie, Imoen knew it was already too late for her. That night, she'd be plying Jan with more pleasure than turnips could buy and she'd be convinced it was her idea. Before the next dawn, she and Jan would depart, star struck lovers and their dalliance would probably end within two tendays. By then, they'd be far enough away they'd have forgotten about Alyssa. As for Edwin, he'd sidle away of his own accord as soon as Alyssa dropped him a pouch and guided his voracious eyes to the next dark buxom wench, or pleated blonde. Haer'Dalis would probably end up lost in the Grove this Cernd, who was now travelling with them as of thirty seconds ago, was leading them to. Cernd would probably leave for the forest on the way back, the 'call of the wild' harkening unto him. Imoen's eyes rolled. Aerie was at it again, this time about mournful flowers and elf symbolism.

There it was: a sprouting turnip, a query so innocently placed: do turnips flower?

Sometimes Imoen wondered if her sister was part sirine, or maybe Yuan-ti. She wasn't, of course, but every so often... but Alyssa was loyal, if nothing else. Maybe that was the true legacy of being raised by a Harper.


	2. A Mad World

Firkraag was magnificent and Imoen instantly wanted to climb aboard and take to the skies. The surly wyrm had other ideas. Before Alyssa could speak, or more likely, because she was waiting, Mazzy the fearless warrior halfling spoke up and called the colossal drake to account.

Imoen chose that moment to run. Keldorn charged; Vizir-guy shot his bow, and Mazzy drew her swords. Alyssa stepped to the side and in a single great flaming breath, three piles of ashes stood. Then the great drake started choking and fell asleep on the spot. What had Alyssa laced their comrades with? Of course they had chosen a suicidal frontal assault despite Alyssa's repeated warnings. Even for her sister, Imoen acknowledged that patience had limits and Alyssa had been a virtual patron saint. But they refused to listen, as they both knew they would. Imoen had only wanted to see a dragon, not challenge one to mortal combat. Of course it was sad but what could anyone do?

While Firkraag slept, Alyssa called the djinn of Trademeet to her, as part of the deal struck, and the booming genie granted her a boon: the floor now held an inscription and magic. Then they waited, the djinn veiled from sight and filled with great amusement. Imoen took the sensible course and hid as far back as physically possible with the best view she could find.

When Firkraag woke up, he blinked once, lazily creaking open his mouth, and Alyssa calmly stood before him. He squinted and Alyssa stepped to one side, his gaze unwittingly or perhaps unwilling following her and the text.

The geas was complete. Firkraag roared, recoiled, snarled, then laughed. He threw his great head back and offered the toothiest of grins but it was no match for Alyssa's own shy, slight smile without a hint of coyness. The djinn departed with a bow, the contract complete. 

Imoen heard the rest of the tale fifth-hand as she slumped in the Copper Coronet beside the slumming dredge of a noblewoman. Of course Imoen hated being told to stay behind but it had been her idea... darnit, Alyssa! The weirdy elf at the bar asked if Gnarlia (the dried up root!) and she, Imoen, ever played pairs... well, Imoen was having none of that, but nearby a crotchety old dwarf guffawed and resumed drinking and trying to wager that three dogs against a squire wasn't even close to a fair fight, whatever that meant. So Imoen diverted the subject, knowing how much elves liked to mope and plied his sense of melancholy. Unsurprisingly he launched into a tale about how his homeland had recently fallen to this or that invasion, how the very trees wept, and yadda yadda. Usually Imoen would care but then Aerie stormed in sans turnip-feet, red around the ears and pink in nose. Some speech about monkeys not being slaves, or something equally bizarre was the most Imoen could make out before Aerie launched into an anti-slavery tirade, resulting in a stampede and full on riot.

The dwarf started cracking heads between drinking, the elf fop took cover, Miss Fancy-Slummingpants rose up with indignation at the affront of slavery, although she probably owned serfs from what she had rambled on about earlier. Imoen used to be such a good listener but Alyssa had really shown her how little of interest most people's conversation actually was...

Amongst the flying wreckage of furniture, drawn steel and fists, profanity and ale, the doorframe seemed to quake as a golem... of... turnips(?) crashed through. Momentarily the battle paused then began anew, this time with spells flying.

Imoen ducked behind a table and waited it out, then yanked down Miss Fancy-Slummingpants as a dagger split the air and dove towards them. Then she was back up launching spell after spell. The dwarf bellowed 'Who let 'im out?' as a battered, but gallant voice declared, 'Havoc hast been cried, and loosened the dogs have I! Stand and deliver, fien-'

The speech was cut short. Imoen wrinkled her nose: he had let the dogs out? That upset Gnarlia, and she immediately tried to comfort the hounds from the far side of the room despite being blocked by a dwarf, a wingless elf, a turnip golem, patrons, and a swarm of gladiators. Somehow the golem was rent asunder but not before most of the patrons took flight or were down, and then the innkeep fell to a bright flash and a bang from a crossbow. Jan stood on the mass of the fallen turnips which swiftly began to dissolve.

Imoen couldn't help but shake her head: the gnome's somehow proud bearing, the goggles over his brow, a valiant saviour - and then Aerie started screeching at him about how 'monkeys had rights' and how they would take Faerun for their own. The world was entirely mad, Imoen decided. Miss Fancy-Slummingpants had gone to tend to the battered squire who was somehow still alive, the dwarf was still drinking, the gladiators still trying to kill the innkeeper and the innkeeper the gladiators, and the creeper elf was using melancholy lines on Aerie. Imoen just had to stick around to see if it worked.

...Except that was when she felt a woosh and found herself literally in the hells. Darnit Alyssa! She knew her sister's whisper-lace touch anywhere. Just as things were getting interesting too. Imoen sighed and glanced around. Green fire in the sky, a cold, spiral floor as she found herself plonked on her bottom with her legs in a stretch she wasn't fond of, and a strange tang on the air. Was that a cake baking? Well, maybe she'd be able to get Alyssa to shed more light than last - gods no, was that...

"Sarevok?!"

...And what was that imp in an apron with a rolling pin and a bowl tucked under one wing?

Enough was enough. She was checking herself back into Spellhold. This was much too ridiculous. At the very least she needed a solid vacation. Candlekeep was tedious, dull, and nothing ever happened except the same daily routine but maybe that wasn't so bad after all. She was about to give someone, several someone's several righteous kicks in the arrrrrrrse starting with Alyssa and ending with Sarevok, or whichever one was closer. And then she was going to read a story about trollops and pugtails beside a nice, warm fire away from all this madness. 

_Fin_

...?


End file.
